


Touch

by SpraceJunkie



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, a really quick summery from jacks side, i mean it's bitty there has to be pies, jack's side of the comic, mentions of anxiety and jack's overdose, mentions of chowder, pies of course, really thats all it is, there's not much else, this is pretty much pure fluff guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 17:31:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6433717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpraceJunkie/pseuds/SpraceJunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Zimmermann's side of the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

It started out really, really innocent. Really.  
Eric Bittle was good. He was an amazing skater, he was fast and agile, and he actually had decent aim when he got the puck. The thing was, Bitty was terrified of getting hit in any way, shape, or form. When the puck came at him above the ice, he scurried out of the way. He was no good on defense, because he dodged anybody who came at him faster than two miles an hour. So Jack started taking him to the rink early in the morning to get him used to getting hit.  
“Mon dieu, Bittle, just stand still!”  
“I can't do this, Jack! I don't like getting hit!”  
“Then hockey sure as fuck isn't your sport.”  
Eventually, the early mornings spent slamming into Bitty in an effort to get him ready to play and play as well as his potential would allow him to paid off, and Bitty was getting less scared to check. So Jack and Bitty spent less time slamming into each other, and more time practicing with the team around.  
For some reason, Jack found himself missing spending all those dawns with Bitty in the rink, watching the sun start to stream through the high windows. And it wasn't just the friendship and work that they were doing, either, though Bitty did grow on him. Somehow, Jack missed how close he and Bitty had become, physically. As in, Jack missed having an excuse to touch Bitty a lot, even if it had been checking him into the walls of the rink. He somehow missed the literal closeness that he’d shared with the freshman, which didn't make sense even to him.  
But somehow, he couldn't keep going without Bitty staying as close as they had been, so he started (subconsciously, he told himself, but that made it conscious, so he stopped telling himself that in the hope it would be subconscious) finding excuses to be the one to slam into Bitty at the bottom of a hug on the ice or fist bump him or check him during practice, gently of course, still considering Bitty’s fear of rough contact that he wasn’t quite over. Or over at all, really. He was just better at continuing to play through the fear and at not moving when an opponent charged at him. He improved, and Jack just had to keep finding excuses to touch Bitty. He drove himself crazy, finding the stupidest excuses to hang around the younger man, whether it was pulling him away for more checking practice or helping him with his never ending supply of groceries and baking supplies and casually ensuring that their hands brushed once in a while.  
Then, somehow, Bitty ended up in his class that was supposedly only for seniors when he was only a sophomore, and had offered to help Jack with his project, since Jack had no clue how to bake anything, and they ended up in the small Haus kitchen for several hours, Jack messing everything up and Bitty fixing it as Jack talked about his career options.  
“I have no idea why you're trusting me with this. Look…” Jack had discovered another talent he was lacking, putting the cool criss-cross things on top of a pie. They kept getting tangled and squished as he tried to loop them around the pie like Bitty did with no effort. Bitty tried to reassure him as he turned from the stove, but instead walked smack into Jack’s chest as Jack tried to carry the pie to the stove to show him.  
“Pardon me…” Bitty was blushing a bit.  
“Oh, sorry.” Bitty made some remark about checking in his kitchen.  
“Move your big...uhm…”  
“My big…?” Bitty blushed harder and laughed a tiny bit before throwing some of his bag of flour at him. Jack laughed, too, and made a tiny effort to get some of the flour off. The thing was, even as he continued to talk about his “big career,” he didn't really care, because once again he was thinking about how close he was to Bitty. Only, it was different again, because now instead of the simple desire to be close to Bitty and fistbump him or be the one closest to him in a team hug, it felt different. His stomach was fluttering and he kept talking even though he was actually watching Bitty and wondering exactly what would happen if he stopped talking and kissed his friend instead, except there was one major problem with that question. Jack Zimmermann had never had a crush on a boy before. Girls, sure, he'd dated a few and had crushes on a few more, especially in high school, before he'd turned his life upside down with his overdose. After that, he hadn't really been interested in anyone, focusing more on keeping himself together and making sure hockey would work out for him than in keeping a love life.  
And suddenly, though he wasn't actually quite sure, it sort of felt like he had a crush on the tiny, baking sophomore who was actually pretty good at hockey. It felt weird, but good weird, even if it wasn't quite a crush. Plus, who even knew how Bitty would feel about Jack suddenly kissing him. Jack prattled on for a little bit before noticing Bitty was staring at him, eyes wide.  
“Bittle? What’s wrong? If there's anything on my face, you put it there.” Bitty shook his head, clearing himself from his little daze.  
“I...uhm, no.” He blushed again and went back to his stove. Jack watched him scurry around his area finishing up whatever he was doing, and Jack reconfirmed his previous thought. Yep. Not just wanting to be close to his friend, it seemed like he did indeed have a crush on his friend. His male friend. His really rather fucking adorable male friend who had flour on his nose and a bit in his hair and was chattering about recipes and having fun baking with Jack and Jack had to fight to keep from facepalming at the way his own stomach was betraying him and giving him flutters that he couldn't control.  
And that he also could not make go away.  
Which was why Jack Zimmermann, captain of the Samwell ice hockey team, ended up lying in bed that night, still smelling pie that had managed to permeate the entire Haus with pie smell, wondering why on Earth he was still getting flutters every time he remembered exactly what Bitty had looked like with that smudge of white on his little blushing nose and how that same blush had made every single one of his freckles stand out on his face, and then he remembered how the flush of heat Bitty had after being in his pads and helmet all practice did the same thing, and how the sweat from the exertion of a vigorous practice or a game made each and every hair in his little forehead curls stand out as their own little curls, which was even more adorable than his freckles, and how he pulled off his helmet and gloves in the players’ box and pushed his hair back and got genuinely excited every time the team did something right on the ice, and...and...and…  
And Jack Zimmermann spent that night realizing that maybe he wasn't gay, in fact, he knew he wasn't, because he certainly had been attracted to girls in the past and still understood that attraction, but he was indeed also attracted to the bundle of joy and cuteness that slept across the hall. Which was confusing, sure, amazingly confusing, and certainly did not help his desire to overcome his already crippling anxiety (having an identity crisis your senior year of college did not help anxiety by a long shot), but somehow he didn't really mind. Maybe it would be hard to adjust to knowing he wasn't as straight as he had always thought, but also maybe having a crush on on Eric Bittle wasn't such a bad thing. Even if he didn't feel the same way. Having a crush on somebody like Bitty could never be a bad thing, because Bitty was so purely good. Which was a though certainly fed by Jack’s crush, but it was also true when he thought about it. Bitty was just too pure of a person for anything associated with him to be bad.  
It took a while for Jack to get used to it. After realizing he actually had a crush on Bitty, he didn't just want to be his friend, he had suddenly realized he wasn’t straight, and then he had to pretend that he wasn't still getting flutters whenever Bitty did something cute, like sing Beyonce in the kitchen as he baked yet another pie, or do some little figure skating trick on the ice before he though anybody else could see him. They weren't huge flutters, they didn't make him dizzy or floppy, but they were distracting. Especially from his classes, when he was supposed to be paying attention and instead he was doodling little Bitty’s on his papers instead of the hockey plays he used to. Arrows, X’s and O’s were easy enough to ignore, especially when the plays they were showing were generally not the best, but tiny little Eric Bittle’s, complete with freckles and his forehead curls, did distract him quite easily. No matter how bad they were, and they were quite awful. Bitty distracted Jack, a lot, and easily. More and more actually, as the year progressed and Spring turned into Fall and it got closer and closer to graduation. Which heightened Jack’s anxiety on a new level, because he was terrified that he wouldn't graduate and his parents wouldn't be proud of him and his team would be disappointed in him and Bitty would be disappointed in him, and on that note he still hadn't even mentioned to Bitty that he wasn't completely straight, let alone that he was possibly falling in love with the sophomore.  
By graduation day most of those fears had been assuaged. He was graduating, his parents were telling him how proud of him they were every ten seconds, his team was laughing with him and making old jokes and also telling him how proud they were, and Bitty was right there with him. He still, however, had not taken care of his last problem, and even as Bitty hugged him goodbye and almost said something he didn't finish and straightened Jack’s tie, Jack couldn't help but feel like it wasn't quite the right goodbye, but Bitty sniffed and said a final goodbye before walking away. Jack watched, more confused than ever about what he was feeling. Mostly because again, it was something new. Again. Now he felt like he'd done something wrong, but he wasn't sure what, and he wanted to fix whatever it was, but he didn't know how. Everything kind of felt like a mess, but he wasn't sure why.  
“If that's what your heart is telling you, you should go. Go and really say goodbye.” The way his dad said it, Jack knew Bob Zimmermann knew exactly who Jack needed to say goodbye to and why and how. And he was still telling Jack to go for it. That was amazing.  
“I can't believe it.” He said to himself in French, not really caring about how ridiculous he looked flying across campus with his graduation robe streaming out behind him. His dad, his famous hockey star dad, encouraging him to do what felt right, and that was great. A strange feeling, for sure, but a great one.  
He burst into the Haus, running upstairs to Bitty’s room immediately.  
“Bittle! Bittle!” He called frantically, hoping beyond hope that Bitty hadn't left already. Nobody was in Bitty’s room, and his heart sank. And then he heard the smallest sniffle from his old room, now Chowder’s. Bitty was standing there, earbuds in, blasting something, most likely Beyonce, crying and whispering to himself. He stepped inside. “Bittle.”  
“Hello!” Bitty was startled. “Hello! Jack? Oh my goodness, is everything all right? You're out of breath! You could have texted-”  
“Bitty.” Jack said it quietly, and it was just enough to make Bitty stop. Jack didn't use his nickname, ever. Jack stepped in closer, lightly holding on to Bitty’s upper arms. “I...uh…” He couldn't say anything, so he stopped trying. Instead, he opted to do what he’d (if he was completely honest with himself) wanted to do since the previous spring. He bent down, since Bitty was so much shorter than him, and kissed him right on the mouth. At first, he was scared. Bitty didn't do anything. There was no movement, no returning of the kiss. Then Bitty gasped, tinily, and started kissing back, his small hands warm under Jack’s robe, just on his sides over his button up. Jack’s hand moved all by itself to rest on Bitty’s cheek moving slightly. They pulled apart momentarily, Jack opening the eyes he hadn't even noticed he'd closed while they were kissing. Bitty’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes were closed. Jack was sure his face was equally pink, but Bitty looked absolutely adorable in that moment. Then Jack closed his eyes and leant down again, connecting to Bitty once more, remaining so close and amazingly, amazingly, wonderfully connected to Bitty, little tiny Bitty, who was kissing him back, until his phone buzzed, twice. He pulled back reluctantly, explaining.  
“Oh.” Was all Bitty said, looking a bit overwhelmed. Jack had two texts, one from his mom and one from his dad, telling him they were leaving and he needed to come out quickly.  
“I gotta go.” He said apologetically, looking down at Bitty, who was still standing close.  
“Okay.” Bitty seemed to have lost his ability to put more than one word in the same sentence.  
“I gotta go, but I’ll text you, okay?”  
“Okay.” He sounded better now, more like he was sure of what was going on. They pulled apart so Jack was standing holding Bitty’s hands in his, and then Bitty darted forward and went up on tiptoes to kiss Jack again.  
“I’ll text you.”  
“Okay.”  
Jack already has his phone out by the time he was in the car with his parents, headed for the hotel. His dad smiled knowingly as he typed, his mom was oblivious.  



End file.
